The Story So Far: Volume 1
by BadgerLeopard
Summary: Three stories set on Saint Marie: DI Richard Poole and his team investigate an explosion outside the police station and the murder of a lecturer, whilst DI Humphrey Goodman and DS Camille Bordey have to solve the mystery of who killed Marty Lumbsden, without any support from their colleagues...
1. A Murder and A Ring

**A Murder and A Ring**

**Featuring DI Richard Poole, DS Camille Bordey, Officer Dwayne Myers and Officer Fidel Best**

Alicia Best was having a perfectly normal day. She had had breakfast at her hotel where she was staying with her husband George and then, once she had got washed and dressed, the two of them set off, for the Honore Market.  
Alicia and George had arrived on Saint Marie only a few days ago, and had been staying in a local hotel known as L'Harmonie, which they thought was luxurious. In fact, the whole island was very luxurious: the view from the beach, the exotic cuisine, the friendly locals. They had decided to come here because they wanted to get away from the hustle and bustle of London, and they had made the right decision.  
"Looks like this is it." George announced, as they parked opposite to the Police Station, where they could see the Honore Market clearly: some people were rushing around, others were yelling inaudible phrases in order to sell their goods.  
"So that's the legendary Honore Market," Alicia said, with a cheeky smile, "I can see why you were so desperate to come here."  
"Oi, stop it you!"  
They laughed and hugged each other, Alicia kissing her husband on the nose gently.  
"Want do you want to do now?"  
"Well, I just wanted to get a few things from the market. Coconuts, chicken, that sort of thing."  
"That sounds perfect. And after that, shall we go to the beach?"  
"Yeah, why not?"  
What happened next was both unfortunate and unexpected: as soon as George opened his door, the car exploded. Orange and red plumes of flame rose up, almost licking the sky, whilst a thousand locals turned in shock as their attention turned towards the explosion.

It was at this point when four people rushed out of the Police Station and gazed in shock at the explosion: the first was a forty something year old English man wearing a black suit and tie; the second was a young Caribbean woman wearing a flowery shirt and orange trousers; the third was an oldish Caribbean man in standard Saint Marie police uniform and the fourth was a much younger Caribbean man, also in standard Saint Marie police uniform.  
"What the hell just happened?!" DI Richard Poole exclaimed, gazing in both amazement and horror at the ruins of the once beautiful car.  
"Er, sir..." Camille Bordey answered, pointing at two charred skeletons who were sat in the front two seats.  
Alicia Best and George Best were dead.

Back at the Police Station, Richard was setting up the investigation database, which was, essentially, a whiteboard with photos of the dead on it. They had learnt who the victims were, as they had traced the numberplate back to a rental company who had lent the car to the victims, and so he was now engaged in the regular activity of writing everything they knew about the murder.  
"So," he said to Camille, "what do we know so far?"  
"Well, Dwayne and Fidel are checking the scene outside sir, but I have been doing some background checks on the victims. And there's one thing that I think you should know before I tell you everything else."  
"And what's that?"  
Camille took a deep breath, knowing that what she was about to say would darken the mood slightly.  
"They were on their honeymoon together."

And, by pure coincidence, Dwayne and Fidel re-entered the station just as Camille said that, making all four of the Police team have an expression of sadness on their face.  
"I see." Richard finally said, after a few minutes of silence, "Is there anything else? Anything unusual?"  
"Well, their daughter worked as an IT consultant until early last year, when she was fired by her boss for inappropriate behaviour."  
"And who was her boss?"  
"Adam Best's father, William Spencer."  
"I see. But there's no record of the daughter coming out to Saint Marie?"  
"Not as far as I know."  
Richard then popped the lid off of his favourite green pen and wrote the words "DAUGHTER - MADE REDUNDANT" on the investigation database.  
"Fidel, Dwayne, what have you found?"  
"Well chief, " Dwayne said, "we've found a cable linking the door on Adam's side to a bomb underneath the car."  
"Very good." Richard commented, writing "CABLE ON ADAM'S DOOR" on the database.  
"But sir," Fidel said, "we've found something that's a bit strange."  
"Strange?"  
"Yes sir."  
He then held a plastic evidence bag in front of the Detective Inspector, making him raise his eyebrows in amazement: the bag contained a gold ring.  
"Where did you find this?"  
"In the boot. Or rather, what was left of it."  
"Right. Fidel, dust the ring for prints; Dwayne, tell me more about the car and Camille, see if you can find any possible record of the daughter coming to Saint Marie."  
"And what will you do chief?" Dwayne asked, sitting down at his desk.  
"I am going to find out more about our victims' honeymoon."

A few moments later, Richard had discovered that the victims had been staying at L'Harmonie, a hotel that was near to the town of Honore. When he had originally arrived on Saint Marie after DI Charlie Hulme had been murdered, he had considered staying at L'Harmonie until he could get a proper home. But, after he'd discovered that his only chance to get a free house was a little wooden shack by the beach, he had to reluctantly give in. Since then, he'd been subjected to nights where he could hear all sorts of animals chirping and barking, and he would have to sometimes clear chickens out of his shack the next morning. That only added to the discomfort that he suffered on a daily basis of wanting to wear a full suit and drink tea in extraordinarily hot weather.  
At this moment in time though, he had decided to pay a visit to L'Harmonie with Camille, in order to see if they had any CCTV footage of the killer strapping the bomb to the couple's car.  
"Has the Commissioner told you about his niece?" Camille said, interrupting his thoughts.  
"The Commissioner has a niece?"  
"Yes. She's called Ruby and she's just started Police School. I think he's hoping that one day Ruby will be a police officer, perhaps even with us."  
"Hmm. Did you find any record of the couple's daughter arriving on Saint Marie?"  
"No, I didn't. However, I did find something that you may be interested in."  
"Which is?"  
"Alicia Best witnessed the murder of Roger Damian on Saint Marie, twenty years ago. DI Arnold Walker was the chief officer at the time, who was tipped off by Alicia that a criminal known as Jordan Davis killed Damian. Davis was sent to prison for fifteen years, and was released five years ago."  
"So Davis must have been hunting Alicia ever since. That gives us a pretty strong motive, Camille. All we need is an opportunity and some evidence that clearly shows that he killed George and Alicia Best."

Whilst Richard and Camille were in the Honore Police Landrover, Fidel and Dwayne were back at the station, doing what DI Poole had told them to do.  
Dwayne was skim-reading documents about the Ford Fiesta that had exploded, whilst Fidel was waiting for any signs of a match for the fingerprints that he had uploaded to the Caribbean Police Computer Network. After a few minutes, however, the computer pinged, and Fidel examined the screen closely.  
"Dwayne, you'd better call the Inspector and Camille." Fidel said, amazed by what he had just found.  
"Really, why?" Dwayne responded, walking over to Fidel's desk and reading what his computer said.  
"I think you'll find that this is why, Dwayne."

At L'Harmonie, Richard and Camille were stood waiting at the front desk whilst the receptionist, a short asian woman called Milla, retrieved the CCTV footage from the car park.  
"Is there anything else I can do for you today?" she asked, having handed over a silver disc to Camille, who then slid it into an evidence bag.  
"Not at the moment, no." Richard answered, before they left the hotel and got back into the jeep. But, as soon as they had put their seatbelts on, Richard's mobile phone rang: it was Fidel.  
"What is it, Fidel?" he asked, as Camille drove them back to the station. After a short pause though, Richard had a look of amazement on his face.  
"Well," he then said, "that's quite astounding. Just tell me where we need to go and we'll meet you there."  
Richard then listened for a few more moments, remembering the address that Fidel was giving them before hanging up.  
"So, what did he say?" Camille finally asked him.  
"He said that he's worked out who the killer is, and we need to get to Honore quickly, as we don't have long."  
"Don't have long before what?"  
Richard turned to face Camille.  
"Before the annual Day of the Dead parade, of course!"

In Honore, people dressed up as skeletons and demons were busy dancing about, as various floats passed by. One of these people was Matthew Kendell, a young Englishman who was dressed in a black suit and tie which had a skeletal pattern on it and who also wore a skull mask, making him hard to identify from the various other dancers and festival-goers.  
Also in the parade was DI Poole and his team, frantically searching for Matthew Kendell, who they knew was their killer.  
"Chief," Dwayne cried, "there's too many people! How are we going to find him?"  
"Surely we should just try and work our way through separate areas?" Camille suggested.  
"No," Richard said, heading towards a stall selling skull masks, "I have a much better idea."

Richard's idea went against his values in multiple ways: one, he knew that he would be boiling in a skull mask in the middle of November on a Caribbean island; two, it would make him look ridiculous and three, he only wanted to see skulls at a murder scene. But, he knew that this was the most effective way to try and figure out where Matthew was, and so his team had no other choice.  
They slowly began to drift through the crowd, trying to examine people's facial features under their masks, but hardly any matched Matthew's. Luckily however, Dwayne managed to spot Matthew remove his mask and slowly drift away from the crowd, and tried to signal to the other members of the team to try and follow them. Thankfully, Richard, Camille and Fidel received the message clearly, and tried to intercept him as he ran.

Merely half an hour later, back at the station, Matthew Kendell was in chains and locked in one of the cells behind the main office of the station. Richard and his team stood opposite to his cell, watching his every move.  
"You'll want to know why I did it, won't you?" he eventually asked.  
"We know that your fingerprints were on the ring, and that your fingerprints were also on the car door. So why did you kill the innocent couple?" Richard questioned.

_George Best was my best friend. We had been friends since university and he had helped me to find a wife. It was my turn to do the same, a few years ago, and I succeeded. But I should have known that he would abandon me. He never cared about me any more. It was all about her now, and he had forgotten that I had helped him find her. Without me, he would be a lonely man, sat in London with nothing to live for. So I decided that enough was enough. I managed to make sure that opening the door once would prime the bomb, and opening the door again would make sure that he never lived again. A fitting end for somebody who never cared about his friend._

"You killed somebody because they had forgotten about your friendship with them?" Richard finally asked.  
"Yes. Weren't you listening?"

It had been an hour since they had interrogated Kendell, and Richard and Camille were now sat outside Richard's shack, gazing at the dark blue sea as it washed towards the shack and then retreated again.  
"Richard, now that we're alone, can I say something?" Camille said.  
"Oh, go on then. What do you want to say?"  
"I think you're brilliant. I think that you may act grumpy on the outside but on the inside you are a kind, honest person, and I don't think that I could be a police officer without you."  
And then a very strange thing occurred: Camille hugged Richard.  
"Er, Camille, what are you doing?"  
"Saying what I think about you. That is what I'm doing, sir."  
"Well I think I've got the message, so, er, good night."  
"Good night, sir."  
She smiled and walked back to the police jeep, before eventually driving off, leaving Richard alone with his thoughts.  
Peace at last.

**THE END**


	2. A Lesson in Murder

**A Lesson in Murder**

**Featuring DI Richard Poole, DS Camille Bordey, Sergeant Fidel Best, Officer Dwayne Myers and Commissioner Patterson**

Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey smiled as she looked out onto the vast blue expanse that was the ocean. She, as well as the other members of her team, had been summoned to act as security for the Saint Marie Scientific Institute, because Professor Sarah Devlin, renowned scientist and lecturer, was giving a lecture that afternoon.

Just as she was about to sigh in a relaxed way, Commissioner Selwyn Patterson, an old Caribbean man dressed in a beige suit and tie with a black Police cap, emerged onto the balcony and stood next to Camille.  
"Detective Sergeant Bordey," he asked, in his usual tone of voice, "I would like to ask about the whereabouts of the Inspector. I have some news for him that he may wish to hear."  
"Sir, I believe he's with Ms Devlin right now, as her personal bodyguard."  
"I see. Did he decide to take that position or did you make him her bodyguard?"  
Camille smiled.  
"I think he did it because her office has air conditioning."  
The Commissioner smiled, remembering how DI Richard Poole despised the heat.

Sergeant Fidel Best and Officer Dwayne Myers were stood on the mezzanine, a cocktail in their hand.  
Fidel and Dwayne had been put in charge of, and this was how Richard had put it, "social security". Their boss had always been an eccentric man: he'd been like that ever since he'd first arrived on Saint Marie. A strange man who disliked the heat and drunk tea in hot weather.  
But, they couldn't think about their boss all day: they had a job to do.  
"Dwayne," Fidel said, indicating a Caribbean woman in a pink dress who had long black hair and was currently fumbling through her handbag, "keep an eye on her."  
"Really? Why?"  
"I recognise her from somewhere, and, seeing as I'm a sergeant now, you have to do what I say."  
Dwayne sighed, knowing that he'd been won over and began to watch the woman that Fidel had wanted him to watch.

DI Richard Poole, meanwhile, was stood behind Professor Sarah Devlin, who was preparing herself for her lecture in her office.  
Richard was a middle aged man, with short black hair and who wore a black suit, even though he was in the Caribbean. He simply wore the suit just to rescue some semblance of sanity from his permanent job on the island: he liked to look formal and be formal, whenever possible.  
"Inspector Poole," Sarah said, with a smile, "will you be accompanying me onstage?"  
"No, if that's fine. I'd rather be with my team, in case anything happens."  
"Oh yes, the Saint Marie Police Team. I've heard all about your adventures."  
He looked at her in an odd way: half of his face showed confusion and and the other half was pure astonishment.  
"You have?"  
"Yes. You solved the murder of DI Charlie Hulme; the killing of Polly Carter and the death of Aslan Kennedy."  
"How did you find out about that?"  
She smiled at him cheekily.  
"A good professor never gives away her sources. I have to go now, but if you may wish to join me then feel free."  
Sarah then left the room, leaving Richard alone. He had so many questions about what he had just heard: how did Sarah know about his team? Was she a secret hacker? Or did she get her information from another source?  
His questions would have to wait though: the lecture was about to begin.

DI Poole and his team sat at the back of the room, next to Commissioner Patterson, whilst Judy Henshaw, Sarah Devlin's personal assistant, emerged onto the large stage that was about ten metres ahead of them.  
"Ladies and gentlemen," she announced, "unfortunately there has been an incident behind the scenes, and so there is a slight delay. We should hopefully have it all cleared up in a few moments, and then your afternoon can go on as normal."  
She vanished, leaving the five police officers confused.  
"Should we check what's going on?" Camille asked Richard, wanting to investigate.  
"Yes. Fidel, Dwayne, stay here." he ordered, before saying to the Commissioner, "Sir, Camille and I are going to see why the lecture's being delayed. Could you hold the fort here?"  
"I understand, Inspector, and I will do my best."  
And that was when a loud gunshot sounded.

Fear and panic raced through the room, causing people to be silent instantly. Richard, on the other hand, decided that it would probably be best to figure out where the gunshot came from and see if there was a body. So, his team split up, and began to scour the Saint Marie Scientific Institute building.  
A few moments later, Richard found the body: it was of Professor Sarah Devlin, lying on the ground with a blood red hole in her chest. His team showed up five minutes afterwards, thanks to the fact that he had called them to say what he had found.  
"Presumably the gunshot came from here then?" Camille assumed.  
"Well, we can't make any assumptions yet, Camille. Assumptions make you look like an idiot. Fidel, Dwayne, process the scene here and then let the medics know that there's a body to collect."  
"Yes chief." Dwayne replied, heading off with Fidel.

About ten minutes later, Richard and Camille were stood in front of the four potential suspects: Judy Henshaw, Sarah's personal assistant; Martin Kavanagh, the man who would be hosting a Q&A session with Sarah if she hadn't been killed; Laura Davison, stage manager and Jacob Walters, someone who had helped Sarah prepare her lecture.  
"Good afternoon," Richard said, addressing the small crowd in front of him, "I'm Detective Inspector Richard Poole, this is my colleague Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey. Would you all mind telling us about the last time you each saw the victim alive?"  
"Sarah was about to go on when she received a phone call from somebody." Judy replied, "I didn't know who it was, but she was adamant that she had to answer it. That was why I came out and said that there would be a slight delay."  
"Did she give any hints about who the mystery caller could have been?" Camille asked her.  
"All Sarah said was that she had to deal with one piece of unfinished business."  
The two detectives noted this down, before moving on to Martin.  
"I saw Sarah in her office, when she was with you, " he revealed, pointing at Richard, who nodded, "which was about forty five minutes before the murder. Once I'd left her office, I mingled with the guests, had a few drinks and chatted with my wife."

"And was this the only time that you saw the victim today?" Richard enquired, with his thoughtful detective voice.  
"Yes."

Meanwhile, Fidel had found something at the crime scene: it was the victim's mobile phone. And, rather luckily, it was unlocked, meaning that he could scroll through the dialler records and see who the victim had called.  
"Well well well," he said with a pleased smile, "what have we here?"  
Dwayne then looked at him, surprised as to why his superior was putting on the usual voice he put on when he had found something that could crack the entire case wide open.  
"What have you found?" he asked Fidel, who showed him the screen, and his jaw dropped in amazement.  
They both rushed away, trying to find Richard and Camille.

Laura and Jacob had now revealed when they had last seen Sarah alive: Laura had checked that Sarah's microphone was working before the important phone call happened and Jacob had checked with Sarah that the powerpoint was working, before heading off to get lunch.  
But, before DI Poole could thank the potential suspects for their time, Fidel and Dwayne rushed in, holding a mobile phone.  
"Dwayne? Fidel? What's going on?" Richard asked, wondering why the pair of them had entered the room frantically.  
"Sir, we've found the victim's mobile phone, and we've found something interesting." Fidel replied, showing the DI the screen that had the last number that the phone had contacted. What happened next was very unusual: DI Richard Poole, grumpy detective stranded on a hot island, smiled. The reason he smiled was simple: this case would be a stupidly easy one.

"It appears that all I need to do to smoke out the killer is dial the number." Richard announced, pressing the phone number on the screen: the phone began to call that number, and a phone rang almost immediately: it was Jacob Walters' phone.  
"Why did you do it, Jacob?" Camille enquired, as everyone looked at him, utterly afraid.  
"Because I did all of the work on that stupid lecture!" he yelled furiously, "And did I get one credit? One little thank you? No, because that stupid woman takes all of my glory!"  
"Fidel, Dwayne, you know what to do." Richard simply said, indicating that Fidel and Dwayne should handcuff Jacob and take him away.

Half an hour later, Richard and his team were back at Honore Police Station, when the Commissioner walked in.  
"Good afternoon, sir." Richard greeted, with a slightly awkward smile.  
"Inspector, may I have a word?" he requested.

"What exactly did you want to talk to me about sir?" DI Poole asked politely.  
"I have been informed that there will be a position back in London in approximately three weeks time."  
"Really?"  
His face lit up with delight: he was finally getting off the island.  
"Yes. It is up to you whether you stay here or return to London, and you have until this time next week to decide."  
"Is that all?"  
"That is all. Good afternoon, Inspector."  
The Commissioner then walked off, leaving Richard beaming happily.

"What did he say?" Camille asked him, as Richard walked back into the station with a smile on his face.  
"He said that there's a job in London, and I have until this time next week to decide."  
Camille smiled at him, understanding why he was glad. But there was also a sadness in her eyes: he had left them to go back to London once before.  
"You'll stay there, won't you?"  
"Well, er, I don't know. I think I need to go back to the shack and decide. See you all at Catherine's bar for a drink."  
He then picked up his briefcase and walked out of the police station.

However, when he got to the bottom of the stairs, he noticed a group of familiar people: Roger Sadler, Angela Birkett, James Moore and Sacha Moore.  
His university friends.  
"What are you all doing here?" he asked, before heading towards them, having a slight feeling that there was something different about Sacha.

**THE END**


	3. House of Death

**House of Death**

**Featuring DI Humphrey Goodman and DS Camille Bordey**

At exactly six minutes past five on Wednesday 24th September 2014, a group of people entered the strange interior of Chelmsford Manor. The entrance hall was what one might expect from a suave country house such as Chelmsford Manor: some leather sofas had gathered nearby that had clearly seen many exhausted travellers sit on them; a chandelier was above the party, a reminder that they were in a house of luxury and not just some old house.  
And yet, despite the signs around them, the mansion was, apparently haunted. One night in 1959, Sir Gideon Macdale saw a ghostly apparition of an old Caribbean lady, screaming at him in fear. Another night, twenty five years later, Julia Davis, whilst on holiday at the manor, saw a ghost of a young woman and her infant child.  
That was what had made Detective Inspector Humphrey Goodman want to stay over at the manor: ever since he was a teenager, he had loved the idea of ghosts, and mysterious haunted houses.  
His colleague, Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey, however, was a lot less excited than him. The only reason why she had gone with him was that Commissioner Patterson had instructed the pair of them to see if there were any good tourist attractions in the area, as he was planning to meet an old friend of his and show him the island.  
"Humphrey, are you sure about this?" Camille asked him, not wanting to go any further.  
"Of course I am, Camille." he answered, excitedly, "This is going to be a brilliant night. A spooky manor, mysterious ghosts and a lovely group of tourists to keep us company. I think it's going to be fantastic."  
"Why couldn't JP or Fidel have come with you instead? I'm not a fan of horror films."  
Humphrey looked at her with a look of surprise.  
"Oh really? Well, I could always show you a horror film at my shack. I've got an excellent TV."  
"I'd rather not."

Roger Finton and his wife Hannah had just plonked themselves down in the bundle of sofas that were nearby. They had travelled all the way from Epsom to get to Saint Marie, and all because they just had to celebrate Hannah's new job at a local newspaper. Roger wasn't much of a journalist to be honest: he worked at a local council, transferring numbers from one spreadsheet to another spreadsheet to another spreadsheet.

"Are you excited, Roger?" Hannah queried.  
"Excited, Hannah? Meh, no. I only came here because I wanted some time with you. Away from the kids."  
"What could you want to tell me that you couldn't say in front of the kids?"  
"You'll find out later."

Sarah Williams was flicking through a copy of Sir Gideon Mcdale's biography, _The Lighthouse_, when Marty Lumbsden, their guide for the evening, turned up.  
"Hello everyone," Marty said, cheerfully, "how are we this evening?"  
"Good, I suppose." Sarah answered, putting down the novel.  
"Well," Humphrey said, with a smile, "I think me and my friend here are very excited, aren't we Camille?"  
Camille raised an eyebrow at him.  
"Well, that's all very good. Shall I begin this evening's procedings?" Marty asked them.  
"If we have to." Camille reluctantly said, before they all followed Marty down a corridor.

They eventually ended up in a small, dimly lit room which had a large round brown table in the centre of it. On the wall there was a collection of different knives, some small, some large, some sharp and some blunt.  
"This is _very_ interesting. Just like in the movies." Humphrey remarked, gazing round in awe.  
"This very room was the place where Sir Gideon Mcdale saw the famous Chelmsford ghost, 55 years ago." Marty explained, holding a lit candle up to his face, "You are standing in the history of Saint Marie."  
"Wow." Hannah simply said, just before, suddenly, the group was in total darkness.

"Camille, find a light switch." Humphrey ordered, before adding, "Quickly!"  
"On it, sir." she replied, frantically feeling for a light switch on the large blue walls that encased the room. In a matter of seconds, she found the switch and turned it on, only to show the dead body of Marty Lumbsden, a knive in his back.

After they had escorted the other guests away from the body, Humphrey and Camille were stood, looking at the dead body in front of them. Flashes of lightning could be seen outside the window: a storm had been predicted to hit Saint Marie that very night.  
"Should I try calling Fidel and Dwayne?" Camille asked him.  
"Yes. You try Fidel, I'll try Dwayne."  
They each took out their phones and dialled the number of their colleagues. The phones rang for a few seconds, before going straight to voicemail.  
"So we can't get forensics here, and nor can we get those two to examine the scene?"  
"Exactly. We're on our own this time, Camille."

A few moments later, the pair of them entered the entrance hall, where Hannah Finton, Roger Finton and Sarah Williams were stood.  
"Is anybody going to call the police?" Roger Finton asked, slightly shocked by what had happened.  
"Well, we are the police," Humphrey announced, "I'm Detective Inspector Humphrey Goodman and this is my colleague, Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey."  
"We've examined the body and now I think we would like to begin the questionings. Mr Finton, if you wouldn't mind coming with us." Camille requested.  
"Certainly." Roger said, walking off with the pair of them.

In the dining room, Humphrey stood, gazing out of the window, whilst Camille was sat opposite Roger.  
"Did you know the victim at all? Were you old acquaintances?" she asked him.  
"Yes. As a matter of fact, Marty was the one who gave us tickets for tonight."  
"Us?" Humphrey questioned, looking at Roger curiously.  
"My wife and I are here tonight, Inspector. If you wish to question her the same time as you're questioning me then feel free to do so."  
"I would rather not. Why exactly did you accept the tickets?"  
Roger sighed, knowing that he would have to tell the truth.  
"I wanted to tell Hannah that I knew about her affair."  
"Who was she having an affair with?" Camille said, intrigued.  
"She was having an affair with Marty. They'd met two years ago in London and, whenever she has the time, she meets up with him."  
"And how did you find out about this?"  
"She accidentally sent a text intended for Marty to my phone."  
"I see." Humphrey commented, before then asking, "What was your reaction to that?"  
"I was annoyed with her. We'd had twelve wonderful years together, and then she starts going off with some sort of Prince Charming behind my back."  
"Thank you, Mr Finton. That'll be all."

Once Roger had left, Humphrey sat next to Camille, deep in thought.  
"So, is it believable?" Camille wondered, now also deep in thought.  
"I reckon it is. But, Camille, I'm just wondering how he could have done it."  
"What do you mean?"  
He got up and stood at an equidistant spot between the table and the door.  
"In order to have successfully murdered Marty Lumbsden," Humphrey deduced, miming turning off the switch, taking a knife off of the large display and stabbing it into Marty's back, "Roger must have turned off the light switch and successfully managed to pull free one of the knives without any of us noticing."  
"Can you remember where Roger was standing?"

_Humphrey pictured the scene in his head: Roger was stood to the left of Marty, whilst Hannah was stood next to Camille. Sarah was stood right next to the light switch, a few inches away from him._

"He couldn't have done it." he concluded, before adding, "But I know who may have had a chance."  
He then walked out of the dining room, back towards the entrance hall. Camille sighed and hurried after him.

Sarah Williams was now being questioned.  
"So, Ms Williams, did you know Marty Lumbsden?" Humphrey asked, now sat next to Camille, back in the dining room.

"I didn't, no."  
"But you were the only person that could have switched the light off without any of us noticing. So, tell us the truth, Ms Williams: did you know Marty Lumbsden?"  
She sighed.  
"A long time ago, I was well known as an actress. Do you know the film _The Well of Sorrows_?"  
"_Le puits des douleurs_?" Camille suggested, to which Sarah nodded and then she added, "I saw it a few years ago."  
"Well, that was my last ever movie. Hollywood didn't want me any more, so I lived a normal life. And do you want to know the reason why Hollywood didn't want me any more?"  
"What was the reason?"  
"Two words: Jack Lumbsden."

Once Sarah had gone, Camille walked off to see if she could find any pens to create a makeshift Investigation Database, leaving Humphrey alone to think for a while.  
His first thoughts were about how beautiful Camille was: a smart mind that came with a smile every morning. He smiled at how wonderful his colleague was, before rapidly drawing his attention back to the case.  
They still hadn't questioned Hannah Finton, which was something that they would probably have to do in a little while, but Humphrey had his suspicions about who may have committed the murder. Sarah and Roger both had motives, and one of them had an opportunity, however impossible it may have seemed. But could they be in it together? And how did Hannah fit into this scheme?  
The answers would have to wait for the time being, he realised, as Camille returned, carrying several marker pens.  
"I found these in the main hall, sir," Camille explained, handing a green pen over to him, before asking, "Should we interview the last potential suspect?"  
"Yes Camille, would you mind escorting her here?" he answered, popping the lid off of the green pen and writing down "MARTY LUMBSDEN", "SARAH WILLIAMS", "HANNAH FINTON" and "ROGER FINTON" in big capital letters on a nearby mirror.

Hannah sat down in the same chair that her husband had sat in only an hour ago, whilst Humphrey and Camille sat opposite him on the other side of the table.  
"So, Ms Finton, " Humphrey asked, "did you know the victim?"  
"No, I did not."  
"Your husband said that you had an affair with him." Camille said, trying to force the truth out of her, which worked: Hannah sighed immediately afterwards.  
"That's the thing, Inspector: you don't know the whole story. I may have loved Marty once, but whilst I was seeing him, he was seeing another woman behind my back."  
This was not what Humphrey and Camille were expecting.  
"I'm sorry, did you just say that you were having an affair with someone who was _also_ having an affair?" Humphrey wondered, astounded by what she had just said.  
"Yes, Inspector. That man treated the person who truly loved him like a thing, an object that's part of a collection."  
"How did you find out about his affair?"  
"I met up with him, a few weeks ago, in London. We went to the theatre and he got a call from his other girlfriend. I asked who they were and he explained it to me: he'd met this girl at a travel agency a few months ago and they'd started dating ever since. It was love at first sight."  
"This must have made you very angry then, I presume?"  
"Yes, Inspector. It did."

All three potential suspects had now been interviewed, and Humphrey and Camille were now trying to piece together what exactly was going on.  
"So, Hannah was in love with Marty, who was also canoodling with another girl." Humphrey said, as Camille summarised it on the mirror with a pink pen, "Roger found out about Hannah's affair and was planning on exposing it and Sarah lost her job because of Marty's father."  
"All three have motives."  
"Yes, but which one did it? The former actress, the happy wife having an affair or the husband planning to save his marriage?"  
"Sir, don't you want to go to bed? It's getting late and I'm very tired."  
"Well, I suppose so. But where are _we_ going to sleep?"

"We could always sleep together."  
Humphrey looked rather embarrassed by this suggestion.  
"Err, well, I don't know. Perhaps it would be better if we slept in separate beds, because I doubt the killer can see in the dark."  
That sparked a thought in Humphrey's mind, making him smile with realisation: he'd realised how the murder could have happened. More than that, he had figured out who had committed the murder.  
"Sir? Have you figured it out?"  
"Oh yes, Camille, oh yes I have!"

It was nearly nine o'clock, and the storm was becoming even worse. Rain peppered down harshly, whilst flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder occurred every few seconds.  
Amidst all of this chaos, however, Humphrey and Camille had gathered the three guests into the dining room, in order to reveal the killer.  
"Horror films," he began, earning a confused stare from everyone else, "the tales of the unexpected. That is what you're getting when you watch a horror film, or indeed any film at all. And that is exactly what happened with this murder. You see, Camille and I came here on Commissioner Selwyn Patterson's behalf, but you three planned your trip here, didn't you?"  
"Are you saying that all three of us killed Marty?" Roger questioned.  
"Yes, Mr Finton. You all had motives, and you planned the exact positions you would stand in probably years before now. You all got to know Marty. Well, when I say 'all', I mainly mean Hannah and Sarah, because Sarah was the girl that Marty was having an affair with the same time as he was with you."  
Nobody interrupted him: it was all true.  
"And so, " Humphrey continued, "on the night of the murder, you acted like innocent tourists. He even may have recognised your faces, but perhaps didn't want to say anything in front of Roger. The three of you then followed him, as well as Camille and I, to the small dimly lit room. You took your positions, and when the lights went off was your cue to commit the murder: Sarah turned the lights off, Hannah took a knife from the display and passed it to you, Roger, who stabbed the knife in Marty's back."  
Nobody talked for a few moments, the rumbles of thunder being the only noise that could be heard.  
"That man was dangerous." Hannah said, with fury in her voice, "He may have acted charming, but he was a far worse person on the inside."  
"Yes, but you shouldn't kill because of that. Like in _Murder on the Orient Express_, you shouldn't kill someone because they did something bad to you."

A few hours later, Dwayne and Fidel arrived, to find Humphrey and Camille stood outside.  
"Chief, are you okay?" Dwayne asked, unusually concerned, "Fidel and I were so worried about you two last night. We thought you were killed."  
"We weren't: unfortunately Marty Lumbsden was murdered." Camille announced.  
"Really?" Fidel wondered, surprised, "Should we have brought the crime scene kit?"  
"No: just bag the knife that's jutting out from the back of the body in the, erm, knife room and dust it for prints. And also dust the light switch for prints."  
"Sir, did you and Camille solve the case? In one night?"  
"Yes, we did. We make rather the team. Now, I think there's some dusting that you should be getting on with. And don't forget to arrest the three suspects."  
"What do they look like?"  
"You'll know them when you see them." Humphrey said, before walking off with Camille and leaving Dwayne and Fidel to process the crime scene.

At the Police Station, Humphrey and Camille were alone.  
"Sir, what is _Murder on the Orient Express_?" Camille asked her boss, as she had nothing to do that morning.  
"It's a novel, by Agatha Christie. There's a train chugging along through the mountains, but then a gangster gets murdered."  
"Right."  
"And then Hercule Poirot turns up."  
"Hercule Poirot?"  
"A Belgian detective. A little man with a brown moustache."  
She nodded, half understanding who he was talking about.  
"And then he solves the mystery. Everyone committed the murder."  
"Everyone?"  
"Everyone. I should show you the movie some time."  
"Maybe not now."  
He smiled at her, and she smiled back at him.  
Just another normal day on Saint Marie.

**THE END**


End file.
